


Smile

by writingtoreachyou



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6405769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtoreachyou/pseuds/writingtoreachyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark reflects on his relationship with Robbie, it's a bit of a sequel to "Anchor". This story basically portrays all years from the early days up to the "Progress" time including Mark's time in rehab and starts when Mark is most vulnerable. Written in November 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While part 1 is entirely based on the image that I have of the two guys, there is a bit of violence going on that I don't really see in the guys' relationship with each other but I thought I'd spice the story up a bit. It's not very explicit, so no worries there.

Just how did I end up like this? When I looked into the mirror this morning, I failed to recognise the person staring back at me. My reflection showed a complete stranger. For the last four weeks the only thing I’d focused on was getting better. Because I failed you. And now I feel that I lost myself somewhere along the way. Which is so very scary. I'm terrified.

For all those years I thought I was in perfect control - of course everybody has their bad days, weak moments in which you believe that you're unimportant to the world. When you picture a group of four or five guys and they are all grinning back at you but you know that at least one or two of them don't feel like smiling in that very moment. Maybe they had a fight or simply not enough sleep or they are feeling insecure for no particular reason. But it's a job and life's too short to focus on pain so you rather pull yourself together and wait for better days. After all, you cannot let the other people down, it's not their fault that you're not doing well for this photo-shoot or that interview. So I smiled.

Secretly, I've always been the kind of guy needing acknowledgment. Not just a confirmation of my talent - I'm still convinced that I simply got lucky ending up in this band. Far more than that I’m constantly craving signs of affection, love, guidance. It sounds so very ridiculous from a grown man and I used to be pretty decent at hiding it, too, because it just seems so silly to demand hugs or encouraging words from the people around you all the time. Who would want to be a burden on other people just to get rid of their own insecurity issues? I think I've learned over here that in the past I've very often made myself smaller than I was, went down on my knees, crouching down to receive the recognition and compassion that I desperately needed. I would crawl on the floor, not only figuratively speaking. But still I smiled. - Unless I was asked not to.

I suppose I only realised that I was constantly smiling when you came up to me after we'd shared the hotel room for the first time. You were cracking a joke about how I apparently was already developing a "heartthrob attitude" for the girls or why else would I even smile in my sleep. And you asked for how long I'd practiced that. I was embarrassed beyond belief and blushed furiously and you simply dragged me into a sloppy hug, patted my chest and said "Markie, don't worry, that's why we love ya".  
You were good at physical contact, probably the best hugger I've come across. Many nights we would watch telly on my bed - yours was way too messy, I still wonder how you could sleep in that chaos - after an exhausting day of rehearsals, almost snuggled against each other to not fall off, drinking a few cans of lager and simply enjoying each other's company. I remember one night in particular when you asked me to sit down in front of you, wrapped your legs around me and massaged my shoulders. The goosebumps were spreading all over my body and I prayed inwardly that my body would not react too much to your touch. It still did and I was wrecking my brain for a believable excuse - but you never even mentioned it, instead you asked with that caring voice that you saved for private moments rather than the audience "everything alright with you?" I simply nodded because I was scared that if I'd open my mouth, not only words might come out and that's when you added with a cheeky grin "There's that smile again!"

We were a good team, you and me, not only because we were pretty much the same age but somehow we just clicked. I've always believed in you, your talent, your potential. I'm not a very envious person, have always admired you much more than I could put into words. We shared so many fun moments; it was like a dream come true.  
Times were getting harder when the band was taking off properly and we also had our fights but deep down we both knew that we could always rely on each other and that we were fighting for the same cause.

I could tell that you were becoming a bit frustrated when Gary ignored our song ideas and considered them as not good enough. And from that certain look in your eyes I could also tell that you wanted so much more. The motives would change. Sometimes you were so eager to get yourself heard that the rest of the band considered you rude and intrusive, especially in interviews when you had your famous Rob moments and the rest of us couldn't say a word without being interrupted. I always defended you towards the lads when they were having a go at you but it was exhausting.  
Other times you were jealous and even more difficult to be around. I didn't like your badmouthing of Gary towards me when we were alone and you know that. I just wanted the best for the band and even though I understood where you were coming from, it created an atmosphere that made me very uneasy. I couldn't sleep properly for weeks if not months because I was trying to find a solution to make everybody happy. But instead of joining forces with you, I smiled at you and tried to ease your anger by being extra nice to you. I'd invite you out for dinner, I'd offer my ear and tried to make you see that you could always rely on me and that no matter how frustrated you were due to the situation in the band, our friendship was stronger than that. Because I feared that if this would continue and you would become more and more irritated, you'd simply take off and leave me behind. And I was not ready to see that happen.

But then the drugs came. Boy, we were both so foolish! I don't even remember all of the substances that we tried and I will not point my finger at you because I was no angel either. Part of me thought that if we're in this together, you cannot crash alone but at some point I knew that it was getting out of hand and I stopped. But I was too late to save you. That is something I deeply regret and I'm not sure I can forgive myself for pulling out of the journey but watching you continue to destroy yourself – but what could I have done? You were so stubborn, you simply wouldn't listen!  
A few times, we already had separate hotel rooms by then, I had to leave you behind in a bar with some stranger - who cared back then if it was a guy or a girl, it was affection and satisfaction - because you would snap at me to get a life. I didn't want to rain on your parade by picking a fight in front of your current object of desire, so I backed away and went home - whichever hotel that was at that point. Not without checking one last time if you would be alright. But you weren't and I couldn't do anything about it. So I would lie awake half of the night, pretty messed up, drunk and teary, feeling helpless and wondering how I could get you out of your misery. Then the knock. Four times, always four times. Quickly wiping the tears away, I’d get up, open the door and there you’d be, high as a kite and depressed. Every time my heart broke; you showed your dark side to me and I let you in to stop your pain. You came for my special treatment, my way of making things alright - at least for the night. Because you felt unimportant and I made myself smaller than I was, went down on my knees, crouching down and crawling on the floor for you. And I smiled. You would never ask me not to.

It was funny in a way: Those months in which we were physically closer than ever, you drifted so far away from me that I couldn't grasp you anymore. The more foreign you became to me, the more often you let your anger and frustration out on me. Your grip became rough, your facial expression hardened or completely spaced out and today I wonder if you even remember that time because I don't recall you touching me like that in a sober state. When you were not drinking or using, you were the sweetest and most charming man I'd met years back but the other Rob was uncontrollable and unpredictable: Sometimes he was a blast and a true laugh and then he'd suddenly turn into this huge ego that snapped at everybody and was making it more and more difficult for everybody. It threatened the future of the band and it hurt me to see you that way because I couldn't do anything about it. I got so tired, so sick. Physically sick because the exhaustion was getting to me. The other guys started to worry about me because I had a hard time keeping up the happy front and I couldn't stop them any longer from taking it out on you.

I remember the day as if it was yesterday. For some odd reason I had a nervous breakdown. Maybe it was the pile of things that had happened recently, maybe it was the constant stress of being in Take That - I don't know. Howard found me sitting there in tears and was unable to comfort me. He pulled me in a hug and I only realised then how much I was shaking. I heard myself mumble "too...much...work...", repeating those words over and over again and he nodded and just answered "yeah... I know... I know...“. I have no idea for how long we had been sitting like that but I do know that suddenly both Gary and Jason were around as well and there was a heated discussion going on. I didn't get at first that it was about you because I was too caught up trying to regain my composure. But when I went to the bathroom to wash my face and returned a few minutes later, I entered a theatre of war: You were standing there with a confused expression on your face, silence fell for a moment and then you were making a joke about leaving and taking the entire room interior with you. Everybody was suddenly laughing and then you turned to look at my face, your smile froze, you looked guilty, sad and confused for a split second before turning to the guys again to pretend to be a clown while leaving. And you smiled.

The next few weeks and months were like a nightmare to me. I was only computing on auto mode. There was all this stuff I had to learn which kept me busy and for the first time I got majorly involved in the planning of the tour because it helped me to forget for a few hours that my biggest fear had come true: You'd just left. And didn't even return my calls. It's not that I don't understand why you couldn't, I've known you well but knowing something is not the same as feeling it. And it didn't make it better that all those interviewers addressed to me when it came to talking about your departure. My favourite question would always be "Mark, you and Robbie were particularly close. How does it feel for you?" SHIT, YOU WANKER! How was it supposed to feel? Sometimes I wonder if they wanted to reduce me to tears on purpose to have some exclusive material to sell. I had a few obvious replies prepared of course but my body language always gave me away. The arm that never behaved the way it should, the eyes that shifted every time somebody mentioned your name - count yourself lucky that you were always only asked about Gary!  
I wanted to be so angry at you. So mad. For dragging our name to shame, for the constant fights that you were picking, saying that you had been a prisoner in this band. But I couldn't. Because I knew that you didn't mean a word of what you said, because I knew you were crying out for us and because this was the only way to keep you sane. Your eyes gave you away and your voice did. So instead I got very upset about it. And determined to not let you go, no matter how hard you were trying to push me away. I'm glad that you eventually gave in and talked to me again because I'm not so sure where I'd be if you hadn't. You're all that matters to me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark starts walking - time to get back to the real world.   
> More memories of the later days of TT1.

“Mark?” I heard a voice from far away but for some reason it didn't seem to be directed at me. Past events were still dancing vividly around my brain and my head felt light and heavy at the same time. Your distant conversations when you were high or pissed off, your last look in my direction when you left the band, my attempts to get close to you, me crying my eyes out over you as soon as realisation kicked in that you were gone; Gary, Howard and Jason who never left my side, long conversations about the songs I'd recently started writing with Gary, endless nights in front of the television with Howard until he'd fall asleep, more insomniac nights in Jason's company until I'd fall asleep - no matter how much they are denying it these days, the guys were there for me. Always. The difference from back then to nowadays is that we didn't talk about the things that were bothering us, we rather tried to cheer each other up and made sure that nobody felt left out. Because we had just lost an important part of the group and even though the other three guys acted as if they shrugged it off, I know that they were also affected by it. Maybe denying it was their way of protecting themselves, maybe it was a way of protecting the group. Or maybe they were protecting me. Because for the first time since the band started, my mask was broken. I had lost my smile and the last bit of strength I had left was used up in front of the media to fake a belief in a band that had been dismantled the day you'd left.

A gentle touch on my arm. “Mark. Are you ready?” Your face vanished from my inner eye and was replaced by the kind eyes of a lady in white. I was back in the year 2010. Finishing my rehab. I sighed involuntarily and fumbled nervously with the hem of my jersey, cursing inwardly for being so edgy about leaving. Departing should mean to have overcome the worst bit but still I was so unbelievably scared because I didn't trust myself not to screw up again. What a bloody fool I had been, what a silly bastard! How many people I had and was still letting down. “I'm not sure...” I replied honestly and looked into my therapist's eyes. She nodded and put her hand on my back reassuringly “I won't lie to you, the normal world out there will be a minefield. You will be tempted, you might fall back but you are a lot stronger than you believe. And as far as I know, there's somebody waiting for you on the other side of the path?” I took a deep breath and nodded. Maybe that was the hardest part. But I gave her a smile, this was my battle and I was determined to win it. So I started walking. Two miles. Some time to think.

“...and from today, there's no more.” Gary finished his statement and with those last words, it all ended. Funnily enough, I've never felt more relieved in my life than in that moment. Of course it ought to have felt scary and unreal but it didn't and I still wonder why. I suppose one of the reasons was that I had already started working on my own songs and we had pretty much achieved all there was to achieve for a boy band. All tears had been used up not too long ago and by that point we were all tired and yearning for something new.  
Everybody but Howard.  
I'm still beating myself up over the fact that I didn't notice how badly he took it. If we had lost him over this breakup... It still hurts me to know how lonely he must have felt and how depressed he was about the end of the band and none of us had the slightest idea. What a bad friend I had been not to notice! And all that after he'd been there for me in so many ways. He is one of the kindest, most sensitive and caring people I have ever met and I will make sure that next time he gets lost in those kind of thoughts, he will not be alone. He is still very much needed.

I stopped my journey for a moment because I felt the need to calm myself down. My thoughts left me shaky and I squatted down. I had not come very far yet and was already feeling the need to drink because a wave of guilt washed over me. Then a voice invaded my thoughts and I felt Howard's eyes on me. He was not judging me in any way but said “You are being too hard on yourself, Mark, you know that it's not your fault. Now don't be daft and keep walking, we still need you, mate!” So I walked on.

When we 'killed Take That', we were all so full of ideas, of dreams and plans. All those places we wanted to go and things we wanted to try. We felt like the world was just waiting to be discovered by us. And all I wanted was to get away from everybody. We had been in each others’ pockets for so many years and I wanted to find my place in life without being influenced by anybody else.  
I recorded "Green Man", my very first own album with songs that I had composed and I was so damn proud. When "Child" and "Clementine" hit the top 3, I was over the moon and that ecstatic feeling lasted for a while longer. In a way, it was a bit as if Take That hadn't ended because I was still traveling from country to country and promoted my record - but still it was completely different. My heart and my soul were put into those songs, looking back at them now, they were still very immature and naive but they were mine and that was all that mattered then.

It was around that time that you started your little crusade against the rest of us, mainly against Gary. There had been the odd quote here and there when Take That was still around but now it started in full blast. Or maybe I only noticed because I had no guys in my back to take those questions away from me when an interviewer decided to confront me with your latest spats. While you still didn't pick up the phone, I could not escape from you because the yellow press had decided to make you their new pet. Robbie did this, Robbie did that, Robbie and Celine. And George. And Paula. And everybody else. They started to mock you, people were taking advantage of you and you were up to your neck in trouble. But it wasn't until one year later that the table would turn.

1997\. The notorious "Angels" year. A star was born. The rise of Robbie Williams. - And the fall of the singer-slash-songwriter wannabe Mark Owen. Isn't it funny how that goes? Making fun of myself on Never Mind The Buzzcocks hadn't helped with my sales figures - not that they had been particularly bad but the music business is so very fickle these days. The next one who'd find out the hard way would be Gary. But not yet. First of all things went to hell for me. One day, my agent called to inform me that I was dropped. No representative had the nerves to tell me in person, they denied their presence when I tried to ring them up - oh how the mighty fall... It was like a blow in my face; that's what failure felt like! I didn't understand it, the first two singles had sold alright... Why couldn't they just give me a chance? I took it as a confirmation that I had been in Take That for the smiles and not the talent and went to the liquor store to buy a bottle of vodka to celebrate the downfall of Mark Owen.  
Next thing I remember is me sitting on the floor in my home studio, tears streaming down my face, feeling the loneliest I had in my entire life. I had to admit defeat at the age of 24. The radio started playing an intriguing piano tune that instantly got to me and the moment a familiar voice filled the room "I sit and wait - does an angel contemplate my fate?", I wanted to die.


	3. Chapter 3

My journey back to life. Whether I’d walked for twenty minutes or an hour - I didn’t know; probably one more mile to go, maybe more, I had lost track of time. Every now and then I needed a break because particular memories, regrets and fears invaded my thoughts and made it impossible to go just one step further and I had to keep up my spirits by reminding myself of all the good things I had encountered in my life - the laughter, joy, love I had received and given, surprises that had overwhelmed me and moments of disbelief when disaster held off. It was an ongoing turmoil and I knew from the therapy sessions that suppression had been one of the reasons for my breakdown. So I closed my eyes for a brief moment and let it happen. Hit me.

“Rob, I was wondering if you fancied...”  
“Hey mate, saw you on tv the other day and...”  
“I fucking miss...”  
“It’s been a while and I’m not too busy so...”  
“I kinda need..”  
So many attempts of starting an e-mail. I don’t recall exactly how many I actually sent but the ones that I started writing outnumbered those that effectively ended up in your mailbox many times over. I didn’t mean to bother you, thought that at some point you’d contact me eventually. Still I couldn’t help writing and every time I hit the ‘send’ button, I regretted it immediately. Here I was, chasing after you like a dog, a slag. I despised myself for it but still it happened again and again. After a while, the intervals grew longer but I never completely stopped. It was my way of showing that I still cared about you but at the same time it made me feel so very inferior. You didn’t give a shit, that was obvious to everybody but me. People told me to let it rest and move on, yet I was not able to, you still meant the world to me and I had promised myself to fight and not let you go and I was sure you’d give in in the end. My friends got mad at you even though most of them didn’t even know you in person but they watched me suffer and lose the last bit of self-respect I had. I kept writing. And calling. But I stopped telling my friends.  
You’d come around. I knew you would - and that kept me going.

Another night in the studio, another song that would never see the light of day. Ten minutes, one line of vocals that turned into a repeated scream. “Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me.” I heard myself sob and realised that I had started crying. I could be very emotional about my tracks because I always put so much of myself into my songs but when I had written that particular one, it was supposed to go in a very different direction. At the second glass of wine, it developed its very own dynamics and I decided to go with the flow.  
In the end my voice was gone, the bottle emptied, the song in the bin and my temper bad. Not the first night to end like this. Only, it didn’t end here. The phone rang.

There was no number on the display and for a moment I hesitated to actually answer because usually I ignored calls with hidden IDs. All too often, some pranksters had played the “Let’s call the shattered celebrity” game on me and especially at the moment I was in no condition for that. Something still intrigued me about that call, so I answered it anyway.  
“Markie...?” My entire body was on instant alert, the amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins in that split second could have killed an elephant. My throat was instantly too dry to speak and I heard myself whisper “Hello...”. You tried to take the gravity out of the situation by singing _“Then a voice I once knew answered in a sweet voice, he said ‘hello...’ then paused before I began to speak”_ I wanted to be so fucking mad at you - and again I couldn’t. You hadn’t forgotten about me, you were on the phone and I had forgotten the way you’d treated me over the last two years in that very moment. And I smiled.

It wasn’t a long phone call because you weren’t very far from my place and suddenly you invaded my life the way only you could. From nought to one-hundred in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to clean up the mess and make myself look at least a tiny bit presentable. When you rang the door bell, I froze in panic for a moment. What if it all went to shit now? After all this strength and all the emotions I had put into this? I opened the fridge and took a tiny sip of vodka, passed the mirror in the hall, fixed my hair and finally dared to face you.  
I expected many things. Jokes, excuses, funny yous, depressed yous, singing yous. But I did not expect you to simply look at me, saying my name. That’s all you did. “Markie...” I suppose it was your way of apologising and I didn’t have the heart to tell you how much you’d hurt me. I was too glad and relieved to see you and God knows I could need you at that moment. So instead of accusing you of being a lousy friend, I rather embraced you, hoping to have you back for good.

We had a good talk, drank some more wine and I was waiting for the right moment to admit that I wasn’t doing too well when you put your hand on my cheek and caressed it gently, whispering “Mark... you look tired...”. I nodded and leaned my forehead against yours, closing my eyes and mumbled “I am...” I remember running my finger along your neck because you started shivering under my touch. For a while we were sitting like that, my brain working on high alert because I hadn’t quite processed that you were here with me and just when I had gathered enough courage to tell you how bad I was doing, you nodded more to yourself and replied “Me, too...”. I opened my eyes, pulled back and looked at you because from what I had believed, your recent success was really doing you well and you had looked so much better in interviews and pretty much everywhere. “Wanna talk about it?” I suddenly was very worried about you again, there was nothing that I wanted more in this life than you being happy because nobody deserved it more. I ran my hand along your arm soothingly and waited for you to talk.  
When the tears overwhelmed you and I saw you crying openly to me for the first time, I felt so much weight lifted off my shoulders. It’s insane, isn’t it? One should not feel happy or relieved when somebody cries in front of you - but that’s exactly how I felt. I held you and let you say all those things you’d kept bottled up for so long and I tried to be strong for you. My hand caressed your back and shoulders and suddenly we were kissing. Who started it? Don’t ask me, you should probably know, all I remember is that we were all over each other. Your eyes pulled me into your soul and my body was your servant, you were hurting and I wanted to heal you. I basically begged you to let it all out on me; your nails dug into my skin like claws until they drew blood and I wanted you to mark me yours. I went down on my knees for you, kissed every inch of your body and when I took you in and swallowed you whole, your eyes were glowing in the half-dark. You needed me and I needed you to need me. We were battling: I fought for your love by worshipping, caressing and kissing you, you bruised and used me. And I loved it.

The thought still made me shudder, even now. I remember all the times I had gentle sex, the times I was at the receiving end of affection and worship and sadly enough, this brought me to Stephanie. Nicole. Tina. Sally - and many more whose names I’d either forgotten or never known. All those endless nights in anonymous hotel rooms, all those girls that I needed for my fix of affection. They were all so very easy, they adored the ground I was walking on, they would have done anything for me. And not just would, they did. I took off them what I couldn’t get from you. How pathetic of me. My therapist told me that sex addiction is a lot more common than people think because nobody talks about it. People are told off as “notorious casanovas” but that’s about it. Hardly anybody ever admits that they are addicted. Which is understandable, really, it is. If it hadn’t ended up in the tabloids, I’m sure I wouldn’t have talked about it to the public. That’s the problem about sex addiction: Drugs don’t talk - people do. And women have feelings, feelings I hurt. I’m such a dick, literally...

I was just about to beat myself up over it again, thinking about the amount of women I had betrayed and let down, when I looked up and saw a figure standing at the end of the road. The end of my path back to life. My heart was beating faster. It had to be you! You had kept your promise!  
A part of me wanted to run into your arms and thank you for being such a great friend. Another part wanted to turn around and go back to the safe place I had just come from - the place where everybody was as messed up as me and I wouldn’t have to face my demons. My body chose option three: It stopped walking.


	4. Chapter 4

Frozen fast. Was I ready for this? Could I face my demons? My first instinct was to run away. From the studio, from the band, from you. Which was silly, wasn’t it? You had been in this situation yourself and none of the other guys would ever judge me either. If anything, I knew that I could always count on your support, you all had let me know before I checked myself into the clinic that I could return whenever I was ready and that you would not continue without me. In a way that was not only a comforting thought but it also pressured me because I didn’t know if I was capable of sharing my feelings in our songs at that point. I was fucked up and wanted to hide from reality - in the childish hope that by denying my state, I’d actually end up being alright. Like a little boy closing his eyes, believing that the evil outside is not happening if he doesn’t see it. Or maybe a bit like you some years back when you had decided to run away from me again.

 

_“Send someone to love me_

_I need to rest in arms_

_keep me safe from harm_

_in pouring rain”_

Frozen fast. Facing my demons. Me in the back of this venue, you up there on stage. Almost two years had passed since we’d seen each other for the last time.

Right after that night when you’d broken the silence for the first time, you’d made a proper effort to stay in touch: we went to the movies, played football and things were starting to go back to normal. You were helping me just by being there and being you, we never actually talked about the depression you had managed to pull me out of but I’m sure that you must have known. We didn’t have sex nor did we snog, yet I felt intimately close to you and soon dared to believe that we would have a future together. At that point I was willing to take whatever you’d offer; I would have accepted your girlfriends, would have accepted us sharing a bottle of wine in front of the television without any second thoughts from your part, I simply didn’t want to lose you again because you made me so incredibly happy. I was willing to sacrifice the idea of a relationship and just go with whatever might or might not happen. Our inside jokes, our laughter, our silly moments, our silent understanding - it simply made up for everything else. Just that one look in your eyes could make a day perfect. And just when I had forgotten that there might be reason to worry, was doing better and had slowly regained my confidence, you went on tour - and vanished again.

So here I was watching you from a distance and every cell in my body ached for you. I have no idea what part of my malfunctioning brain had effectively made me buy the ticket and show up but when I saw you standing there in front of thousands of people, I felt further away from you than ever before. I remember leaning against the wall behind me because your performance pulled the rug out from under my feet. I wanted to make you that better man you were singing about and it left me breathless to witness your actions contradicting the lyrics of the song; I failed to make out if you were happy or sad - your mouth was pulled into a thin line but you were joking around, singing “Lord I’m doing all I can to sing for Manchester”. Were you happy? Did you hide sadness? Were you scared? I didn’t know but what I clearly understood was that you were still not over Take That because another song I can recall from that gig was your vamped up version of “Back For Good”. While I loved the remake, it zoomed me right back into the year 1995 when we were sitting in our hotel room. Your complaints about Gary and my fear of you leaving the band, all your anger and your unresolved issues, all that bickering, those bitch fights, the bitterness. It was still all there, you didn’t even hide it. And I was standing behind a wall of cheering fans, unable to help.

 

To be fair, you never disappeared for real - not this time. When I say that you ‘vanished’, I mean that we didn’t hang out and that I missed that an awful lot. Still, how could I be angry? You were touring the world, had one successful record after another - you even had that duet with Kylie Minogue that you had been joking about in the early days! I was overwhelmed by your success and eminently proud. And could I blame you for being busy while my life was reduced to sitting at home, trying to write material that record companies would be willing to invest in and being rejected by label after label? Of course I couldn’t. Neither would I have wanted to. I just sometimes wished you could have been there in person, encouraging me to continue and making me believe that I was no failure. But you were not responsible for my happiness and maybe you’d have wanted to call more often or come around to see me every once in a while but you simply didn’t have the time. I understood that, I did.

They started calling you the new king of pop - and I disappeared out of the public eye. The main point of making music after Take That  had been creating something that I was passionate about because for the first five years of my career, I’d been the puppet on somebody else’s strings. BUT a very successful one that never learned how to fail.

Reality check.

Smaller venues, ridiculous sales. Eventually, the interviews got fewer. Unfortunately, the jokes did not, neither did the numerous “Oi, whatcha lookin at, twat? You’re no longer in Take That”s.

So many nights in the studio. Just me and the piano or the guitar and a bottle of wine. What a romantic imagery, what a depressing reality. Writing music WAS my biggest passion but my reputation as ‘the cute one’ and ‘Mister Best Haircut’ made it so terribly difficult to be taken seriously. My brother once said to me that had people read my lyrics and listened to my compositions without knowing who I was, I could have been majorly successful. He probably just said it to comfort me but one thing was definitely true: The prejudices were part of the problem.

 

Then one day my agent called and asked me to take part in a celebrity TV show for charity that would change my perspective on a few important things forever.

Rehab had been a lot like being locked in that container in some ways. You had an awful lot of time to think - in the Big Brother house there were plenty of possibilities to intoxicate yourself (and believe me, we did) but every now and then, issues from your real life would come back and haunt you. Still those ten days are amongst the happiest of my life. There was no pressure from outside, we played silly games, shared good conversations and I wouldn’t wanna miss that experience for the world. I would say that I made at least one friend in there that would stick. We sometimes talked about you - but more after Big Brother ended because in the house, it made me a bit uncomfortable. Of course you were too busy to actually watch that show - who was I kidding to believe otherwise? - but news travel fast and neither did I want to harm our friendship nor your reputation.

What’s funny is that you start to develop a ‘second eye’ in that container - you begin to watch yourself. It’s a bit like in rehab really when your focus is a lot more on yourself because of the lack of distractions. Good example for a moment of self-realisation was definitely my conversation with Les in the kitchen: He was having a pretty rough time, was increasingly depressed but never lost his kindness. I wanted him to win because he would have deserved it more than anybody. I was doing the dishes and Les just looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression, maybe he even asked me what’s the matter, I can’t quite recall. But it was then that I realised that I had grinned at him for no other reason than the feeling that he might long for some kind of affection. That night it occurred to me how often people had passed me, be it backstage or at my mum’s house - pretty much anywhere - smirking at me. I wonder if I had learned to smile by default because I usually wouldn’t notice it until my mimics were reflected by the people around me. So apparently I still had it, the “heartthrob attitude” from the early years, that thought of you calling it that still made me smile. Cheeky bastard... Over those ten days in the container, I was smiling even more than usual because there was no escape, no proper hiding place, so I tried to keep up the good spirits for everybody most of the times (at least when I was awake), something my therapist also drew my attention to in rehab years later.

But the moment the last contestant left the house and I was left alone with myself, having nothing else to do but to sit and wait for that door to open for the last time, the mask dropped. An incredible amount of inexplicable sadness washed over me and mingled with the overjoying realisation that I still had fans out there who bothered enough to actually vote for me. All these little rejections that had added up over the years lost their power. I remember saying in the diary room at some point that I didn’t see why I should win because I was not contributing enough, to me, I had always been more of a bystander, a bit outside of the group.

When I had washed up my last glass, sat down again, had my last smoke, it hit me for the first time how wrong my own picture of myself had been for a very long time. And it overwhelmed me. There I was: on my own, nobody left to be strong for - and four million viewers watched me cry.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“...Mark...?” - Your voice brought me back to reality. I had been glued to this spot for an eternity, long enough for you to start worrying about me. The distance between us was still so wide that until that moment I had not been entirely sure if it really was you standing there. I couldn’t make out your face and maybe one of the reasons I hadn’t continued walking was the fear that it might have been somebody else. That you might have chickened out and asked Gary to come instead. But you had kept the promise you had given me the day you found me in that studio in an embarrassing state. The thought of that moment sent shivers down my spine.

 _“My greatest fear is maybe you will notice I’m not what you wanted after all these years”_ The piece of paper with my scribbled lines lay on the table and I was a mess. I knew that I was, the delusional state of being blissfully drunk never kicked in these days. I was so numb and the paradox about that was that it just hurt, everything fucking hurt. And the hurting didn’t even make sense, it was the reminder of a past that I had shaken off. We were successful, we were happy, the entire band was back together. Of course there were days when things were beautiful and other days when they were not but that’s life.

I’d had this liquid friend of mine for a couple of years. He liked me, he’d been warming me from the inside and had soothed me when I was upset, he had calmed me when my nerves were killing me and he’d make me forget. He’d make me numb until a random shag would make me feel again. And the feelings always killed me because those women couldn’t give me what I needed, so I numbed myself again.  
But that was over, you were back. After all these years you had returned. So I tried to say goodbye to that long-time friend of mine. He got upset and clung to me as if there was no tomorrow. It didn’t help very much that especially in the beginning things were still a bit rocky and shaky but everybody was talking and trying so hard to re-establish a unity that’d been gone for a very long time. It was an exhausting process, I was on constant alert and tried to avert as much tension as possible. In a way I felt like I was your guardian again even though you never even asked me to. But I was the obvious connection; I’d been the one to encourage you to come around and it’d also been me constantly trying to talk the guys - mainly Gary - into giving you another chance. In addition, I knew how sensitive you could be and even though you’d been off pretty much any drug out there for a while, I felt responsible for it to stay that way. What if this whole experiment backfired terribly, causing you to relapse?

It was a very emotional time. Fears that I had pushed away for such a long time returned. You hadn’t been this close to me for so long, I was watching myself with that ‘second eye’ and established that I was heading straight into my own disaster with you but it’s like a car crash: You see that there’s a bambi in your headlights and still can’t do anything about it. My own happiness overpowered me. It’s safe to say that despite all the tension and insecurities it was the most blissful period of my life. Creating songs with you was amazing, we were still an exceptionally good team, all those moments that we shared on the couch with your laptop and my notepad and I would lean in and change something around, feeling your body heat invading me and I knew that I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but in that studio with you. Sometimes we talked for hours, sometimes not at all. There was a bond between us that was growing daily and it was a bit like in the old days, just much better. I felt how my entire body was recharging from the energy you radiated, I was soaking up every minute the band spent together and it was beautiful. My life could have been absolutely perfect, A+, if my liquid friend hadn’t felt more and more neglected and threatened by the situation.

In the past, I would have a bottle of wine here and there but it was okay really. Nobody noticed and to be quite frank: Neither did I. It’d never been a problem! Writing albums worked fine, I wasn’t drunk during the days, had my bottle of wine in the evenings - it was all perfectly normal. To me. Every now and then my mum would make a remark or my sister joked when we were going out that she’d be totally smashed after the amount of alcohol I’d just consumed and deep down inside there had been this nagging feeling that she was right, that something was off. But I kept on pushing it away, it never became apparent.  
The time in the studio changed it. For some reason, I suddenly stopped telling people about my drinking. I don’t know if it had something to do with the fact that my life couldn’t have been any better that it might have sounded suspicious how often I hit the bottle or, more likely, I realised that there was no reason to numb myself because I actually wanted to feel my happiness but my body needed the drinks. It was then that I realised I had a problem and started to hide. Until that day.

Sitting in the studio, writing a song about how scared I was of the prospect of you noticing that your best friend was a total and utter loser. When I emptied my bottle, I thought of all the times in the early days when you’d entered my room to fuck me senseless, sometimes looking confused, sometimes depressed, angry or hurt - and when you came, you were the most beautiful creature on this planet. Pure bliss on your face, the light returned to your eyes. You weren’t cheesy or anything, you never ended up telling me that you loved me during sex, you’d never been the cuddly type afterwards which is funny considering how much you were seeking my body contact all the other times. But you would stay for a while and I would curl up into a ball right next to you, resting my head slightly on your sweaty chest. You’d smile but stare into space and without thinking much about it, you’d run your fingertips over the bruises of the fresh scratch marks on my back. We never talked much, I wouldn’t have known what to say - couldn’t tell you how much I loved you, when we both knew that you only needed sexual healing and I was willing to give it. That was the agreement. In the end you’d ruffle my hair, I’d briefly plant a few last kisses on your chest and neck before letting you leave. And roughly 15 years later I was in this room, drunk out of my mind, reading the lyrics I’d just written “I still wanna have sex with you! So what do you want from me?” A sudden wave of loneliness washed over me and out of nowhere, I felt used. I pulled my legs up and finished the bottle. I pulled at my hair and started sobbing quietly, muttering swear words to myself when the door opened and you stood there right in front of me. That look on your face would accompany my rehabilitation process until the current day.

That look. It was as if somebody had drained all the life out of you in a second. It didn’t happen very often that you were left speechless. Strangely enough, the feeling of having been used vaporised in that very second and was replaced by guilt that I had allowed myself to feel that way in the first place. Nobody had ever forced me to do anything, I did it for you but only because you are everything to me and deserve more than words can express. And I would do it again. Next thing I remember is you sitting right next to me and pulling the bottle out of my hand carefully. I hadn’t noticed how firm my grip had been until you gently took my hand in yours and tried to hug me. My entire body was still bent into an awkward position, so you couldn’t really hold me but you waited patiently until I was ready to release the tension and let you take care of me. In my head I kept repeating that I had failed you but after a while, something changed. You whispered my name repeatedly and simply were there and I don’t know for how long we’d been sitting there when my mind stopped playing games with me. You didn’t leave me, even though I was too weak to be there for you. I squeezed your hand to let you know how thankful I was and let myself fall. And I didn’t crash because you never left my side.

“...Markie... You alright, mate?” you said, standing there in the distance. Realisation kicked in that I still hadn’t continued walking and by now you were probably worried sick. I rubbed my arms, looked down at my feet to gather some courage and then back up again, smiling as bravely as I could and replying “...Yeah...Coming...”. You were the sweetest, giving me all the time in the world to do it at my own pace. In that moment, however, you made three big steps in my direction to encourage me to finish my path. Then you stopped and waited for me to do the rest.


	6. Chapter 6

Ten more steps to go. I carefully looked at you and could tell how nervous you were yourself, you looked a bit like a lost child.  
Five more steps. You fumbled briefly with your hands in the manner that you’d usually mock me about.  
Two more. You tilted your head and smiled as naturally as possible.  
One. I was facing you.  
“Hey...”, you said in the most caring voice. I bit my lip nervously but felt the shivers down my spine from that sound and the way you smiled at me. “...good to see you, mate”, I replied and gnawed on my lip once more. You shifted your feet an inch closer to me and nodded “Good to see you, too, Markie...” We were nodding at each other, unsure how to act around one another and for a second, my stomach turned out of fear that things between us would never go back to normal after you’d seen me break down that day a few weeks back.  
You probably noticed that I was becoming uneasy and snapped out of it with a typical Rob reaction “Ah, come on son, give the old man a hug!”, you moved in that special comical way and pulled me close to you - but it was different from your usual jokes, you held me and didn’t let go for a while. We were standing there, eyes closed - at least I had mine closed so I can’t speak for you - and I soaked up your warmth, God I had missed you so much over the last four weeks. “Mark Owen...” I heard you mumble silently “You are truly one of a kind...”

“Ladies and gentleman: Mark Owen!!!” - The screams when the riser slowly made its way up to the surface were deafening and as always my first instinct was “RUN!!!” but there was nowhere to go. I had agreed on doing this and now I had to pull it through. I started singing “Back for Good” and was searching for your eyes and there you were, beaming like the sun, filling the entire stage with your amazing presence and when I turned and saw a sea of people, I knew one thing for sure: I had to sing louder!  
It’s kind of funny that straight after being in the Big Brother house where I’d joked with Sue about wanting to do a duet with you and that you should give me a call because then I’d end up with a record deal, I was standing in front of 375,000 people in Knebworth Park, doing exactly that: a duet with you. I’m still shivering when I think of all those fans singing along and cheering. It was massive! You’d clap and could actually watch how that clapping made its way all the way to the back because with the amount of viewers in that audience it took some time. No wonder it could get too much for you to take, being a guest on stage already did me in!!! One of the reasons could also have been that at that point it’d been two years since we had last seen each other. There seemed to be a pattern there...  
And call me a prophet: That duet - and probably also winning Celebrity Big Brother - got me a deal! After five long years, I was finally able to release that album I’d been working on for such a long time. Looking back, I believe that 2003 was one of the best years of my life. It definitely made me a new man. There was a newly discovered confidence that I still had to get used to at times but I was doing great. We were gigging a lot, I released the album, the first single went well - life was wonderful! We had a lot of good parties with my band and I was increasingly proud of my work. Of course interviewers would keep referring to Take That but in a way I was glad that I was being interviewed at all, so I just answered the same old questions politely over and over again. No, we were not reuniting, yes, I was still in contact with Robbie and also with the other guys - at least now and then. Not all interviews were dull though, I had a laugh in quite a bunch of them. People tried to set me up in TV shows or used me for some hidden camera shows, I did some kiddie shows as well and of course one of the infamous Simon Amstel interviews for Popworld. It was a really good time. Many laughs, many drinks - simply a lot of fun! I was brimming with ideas for new song material.  
\- And then I was dropped again.  
It’s funny how quickly you get used to these blows.

But 2003 had made me so much stronger, I decided if people didn’t believe in my music, I’d just start my own record label, like that I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. And I knew what that was: Recording my new album in LA. Which was - coincidentally of course - the place where you lived these days. Had I mentioned that I had become more confident? I was not gonna give up on us as quickly as I’d done before. Busy or not, you were still my friend and I still needed you in my life and would do whatever I could to see you. And when you told me how much you liked my material and that you’d actually secretly bought all of my albums, I couldn’t quite believe it. It probably didn’t surprise anybody that I also owned all of your stuff but that was different: Everybody owned all of your stuff - well, apart from Gary Barlow. So when you sang your song of praise and compared me to the big songwriters out there, I was bursting with pride; your opinion meant a lot to me.

I’d say that during those years, we were not really close friends, we talked on the phone every few months, sometimes more often, sometimes less. It was a slow learning process to let you go and I wonder if I effectively managed at all. What had happened to my spirits, my will to fight for our friendship? Good question, I guess they were defeated by reality. Too many “I’ll call you back” promises from your part that you didn’t keep. My optimism was replaced by bitterness, my bitterness by anger, then my anger by indifference. I had become increasingly good at pushing you into the back of my mind - the two Bs (birds and booze) definitely helped. But I still missed you being a close friend.  
So when I was done touring with my first independently released album and was requested to take part in that Take That anniversary documentary, I was a bit skeptical at first what to expect. Again some time had passed since you’d called and I honestly had no idea if you’d show up. Judging from the past and your rather avoiding personality when it came to your own feelings and mistakes, I couldn’t picture you being there. It was so good to see all of the guys together in one room, I’m sure you’d have liked it. Sharing memories now that all the bad bits of it felt so far away. But in a way I understood where you were coming from. Meeting Gary for the first time after all those years would definitely not have been wise with all those cameras around. All those unresolved issues from both of you - and the bitterness because you both were too proud but still cared too much about each other to simply let it rest. Your absence of course, again, resulted in me feeling responsible for defending you - even though, again, you would never have asked me to do that. The guys were so gutted and in a way I was as well but what really gutted me was your video message. You had such warm messages for both Howard and Jason, were smiling and apologetic and it was so very heartfelt. Something in my guts told me that I should embrace myself for the disappointment. What did I expect? Hard to say but deep down I was hoping for an apology for all the times you’d let me down. Words cannot express the blow I felt that day. Your compliments of being the nicest chap you’ve ever met didn’t even reach me properly, I couldn’t believe that you called what he had “still being in touch”. You’d been too much of a chicken to actually tell me in advance that you weren’t gonna show up! So much for “still being in touch”. I got so angry. _There you sat victorious, the only man that made me come._ First you wrote silly, stupid songs that were so very obviously about us and that you spread on your albums for me to find, then you sent out a message saying that I’m a genius but not actually giving a fuck. My stomach was turning and my mouth twitched but I kept up the front because I knew that the next one in line would be Gary - and then I might have to defend you again.

“...What would you wanna say back?” - my feelings were all over the place, I couldn’t think straight but it was something I needed to hear. I can’t even really say why, maybe my disappointment and hurt would seem less radical compared to Gary’s reaction. I’m no therapist, it’s what I could imagine to be the reason. In a way I noticed back then that I could still rely on my guys. They had all grown up and could finally speak their minds and it was refreshing! But even after all these years, Howard instantly picked up on my irritation and my hurt feelings and supported me with tiny gestures that a bystander would probably not even notice. He took the edge out of the conversation and made me feel more at ease just by smiling at me and saying that he believed things between Take That and you were not that bad anymore.

“...are you sure you are alright?” you pulled back and looked at me. Like so many times before, your eyes sucked me into you. I nodded and frowned a little bit before brushing some hair out of my face “just thinking about the past, you know?” You hugged me once more, it’s remarkable how different I felt in your presence. More unstable but at the same time more secure. You had the potential pick me up - but also the power to break me. And scarily enough, that thought didn’t scare me the least.  
“...alright, let’s go home, son!”


	7. Chapter 7

“It’s about time that I got myself that driving license, ain’t it?”- your voice brought me back to reality, my mind had just decided to wander off again the way it often did in the most inconvenient moments. Interviews, important negotiations or artistic discussions: As soon as anyone gave me a couple of minutes without directing a question or comment at me, I was off.  
I was looking out the window, watching the British countryside pass by and wondering where this car would lead. Where was “home”? What did you consider “home”? My nerves were killing me but I tried to act like a grown-up man and just go along with whatever would happen next - I wouldn’t have had the strength to object anyway. Instead I counted on you to make the right decisions for me.  
I briefly ran my hand over your thigh and smiled at you, replying “I don’t mind you sitting in the back, you know? And I trust Johnny for not crashing us into the next wall!”. “Oh well, you shouldn’t. Never trust Johnny!”, he chuckled and winked at their driver. “Oi, sod off, that sounded very different when you asked me to do it, mate! - And remember: NEVER argue with the designated driver”, Jonathan winked back. Sometimes the two of you really could pass as an old married couple... But funnily enough I’d never been jealous of Johnny, even though he’d been your mate ever since I could remember. And without having talked about this before, you had already made the first good move by not asking any of the other guys for that lift. As bad as it made me feel, I wasn’t ready to face them after all the disappointment and distress I had caused. At the moment I wasn’t sure how to ever go back into that studio with them again and I knew that those questions would have to be answered very soon but for now, I simply was overwhelmingly tired and couldn’t keep my eyes open for much longer; so I rested my head against your shoulder and mumbled “Thank you...”. From very far away, your chatty voice reached my ear “I know how you it feels… been there… Besides, It’s the least I can do, you’ve always been there for me.” but my lips were too heavy to move and everything around me went blurry.

Where was this sudden noise coming from? Just a second ago I’d enjoyed some privacy in the silence of our dressing room before we’d continue that day’s rehearsals for our first tour in 10 years but out of nowhere, footsteps were heading in my direction. Then there were some more, faster ones. Then Gary’s screaming “Maaaark, Maaaaark, where are you??? We got a surprise for you!” I downed the half full glass of Pinot Grigio, put the bottle back into the fridge and quickly cleaned the glass before leaving the room and giving away my hiding place “Here!!! What’s all this noise about?”.  
Ever since that night that we’d had a bit of a drunk moment of camaraderie and decided we’d be mental enough to give Take That another chance, things had been insane! Sometimes I still felt the need to pinch myself because I couldn’t quite believe that we’d not only pulled it through but that we had also sold truckloads of records and tickets to our reunion concerts.  
And now we were in the middle of practising for that tour (and that even included quite an amount of dance routines we had to memorise - so much for ‘If we return in ten years, we’ll definitely not dance anymore, that would be ridiculous’. I tell you: Never read - or even worse, watch - old interviews). Some people probably assumed that the drinks had killed our last sane brain cells and at that point I wouldn’t have argued with them. We were mental. But I absorbed every part of it as if my life depended on it. This was it, our second chance. The trip to Vegas, the planning of the gigs, the actual start of rehearsals - my life hadn’t felt this complete in a very long time and when I exchanged looks with the other lads, I could tell that they all felt the same. Of course we wanted to cancel it a million times during the process because we were scared we weren’t physically capable of doing it anymore and our heads were doing us in. But the times that we’d look at each other and share mutual understanding, happiness and excitement prevailed and there wasn’t a single day that had passed by since the decision had been made without that one moment that made it all worthwhile.  
And here I was standing, outside the dressing room, waiting for the surprise that the guys claimed to have. Gary reached me first, I wonder if the other two had given him a head start because usually he’d lose against both Howard and Jason. He was panting and grinned at me like a lunatic - by now I was intrigued. But before he could say anything, Howard followed and grabbed my arm without a warning, jerking me after him. I followed him and turned around to look at Gary with a question mark written all over my face “Guys, what are you doing?”. This whole reunion brought out our childish sides again - at least sometimes. Next thing I remember is being put into the middle of a dark venue, it was a chilly but not too cold evening and Jay was already waiting for us all to gather around him. He was a bit more pensive about it than the rest and said “Hope you’ll like this. We have been pulling some strings and made some phone calls. We’d like to include this in the show”. I frowned and was not sure where this was going, the guys all gave me mixed signals but I had a slight idea that this was going to be something big. “You’ve talked about the show behind my back?”, I said a bit more defensive than I meant to sound and Jason put his hand on my shoulder “Relax... It’s just a suggestion, okay? We wouldn’t have wanted to disappoint you in case this hadn’t worked out. Now face the stage already.” He smirked softly but still had this glint of doubt in his eyes when he gently grabbed my shoulders and turned me around.

It was completely dark for a moment and silence fell. Every now and then, I could hear the guys shuffle their feet. They were all standing like a wall behind me, just Howard took a small step forward and looked at me from the side. Jason gestured something to the FOH, then the intro to a song started playing. I didn’t recognise it at first but still my heart was racing. Then a yellow light lid up straight ahead and there you were. A hologram of a larger than life you filling the entire stage and both screens. Putting your hands in your pockets, obviously a bit insecure. Singing _“Spirits move me, every time I'm near you.”_ To put it mildly: I was in shock. The guys, the venue, everything vanished around me and there was only you and me. My kneels felt too weak to support me any longer, so I walked a few steps towards the stage to make sure I wouldn’t collapse there and then. My mind was racing, yet I didn’t know what to think. We had talked quite a bit lately, you had just hit a period of depression and I couldn’t help you and now you stood there on stage and sang this song. For the band. It was something big. I bit my nails and soaked up every bit of it and when those few lines stopped, I wanted to watch it again. But it would have felt ridiculous to demand a rerun. The light was gone, the hologram was gone and it was dark and cold. “It would be a bit like he’s with us every night...”, Howard said and put his arm around me “He thought you’d like that”. When I replied “I do”, I noticed how broken my voice sounded but I turned my head and smiled at him “I do. I just wish he’d be here, you know? It’s a shame... So you all were in on this?”, I turned to the other two guys who’d also shifted closer and Gary admitted “Yeah, we were. Howard and Jay talked it through with him - I don’t think he’d have done it if I had suddenly given him a call.” He grinned at the last bit but it was obvious how much truth lay in those words. Jason added “We had a little bit of convincing to do - Rob didn’t wanna rain on our parade... Silly fella!”  
There were still a lot of walls to climb and obstacles to overcome but from that evening on, I was determined to get us all together again. The band had never been the same since the day that you’d left and it would never be Take That for me until you’d return.

And as if you had heard about my plans, you unconsciously did the one thing I didn’t expect - you suddenly started calling me. For the first time in a really long time it didn’t have to be me trying to stay in touch. Your depression was challenging because I didn’t wanna break you but at the same time those new dynamics were beautiful, you finally trusted me enough to call me when you needed me. Still the guys, especially Jason, warned me not to head selflessly into a co-dependence that would destroy us both. Many years later, in rehab, I understood what he was trying to save me from but back then we ended up fighting every now and again because he was convinced that you were using me to get better while in the end just a therapy could help you. I was still naive enough to believe that our friendship and my love would get you through the dark periods of your life. Of course I knew that you were ill and I had also known you long enough to know that your edginess was caused by drug abuse of some kind but I had faith in you and your willpower. And I had faith in us as a unity.

At first, your calls had come as a big surprise to me but when I talked to Gary about it one day, it suddenly became so clear: When we’d recorded “Beautiful World”, I had sneaked a song in that I had written about you. I just had felt like hiding a song or two about you on our record as a payback for all the times you’d done the same to me. And you couldn’t really blame me that the song went through the roof, could you? Your depression had lasted for quite a while now and was something that I couldn’t cure. It killed me to see you this desperate and I’d tried to process it in “Shine”. I never explained the background of the song to you, even though you’d start asking me about it years later in the typical “Robbie way”. You knew me better than I knew myself, of course I was unable to keep that from you but what were you expecting when you came up to me asking “Come on, it’s about me, isn’t it?”. We were not sharing intimacies, we were not even dating back then, do you really believe I would have blurted out “Yeah, sure, I love you, now deal with it!”?  
In the end I was not only proud that “Shine” got more radio airplay than many of the other singles but also hoped that you’d eventually start believing the lyrics of the song. You were everything I wanted to be and all I wanted was for you to stop hurting. Our timing couldn’t haven been more brutal though: The week we won the Brits for the song that I wrote about you, you checked yourself into a clinic.

The car came to a halt. I opened my eyes, feeling very sleepy but rested and was greeted by you “Hello luv, good company you are. Thank God Johnny didn’t fall asleep on me, too, would have been quite a boring ride!”. You raised your eyebrows cutely and ruffled my hair. I pulled my scarf tightly around my neck and looked outside. So “home” meant “my house”. A wave of disappointment hit me and was soon replaced by fear of being alone. How could I make you see that I couldn’t do this? Not now? Not without your help? There was booze in this house. Alcohol plus memories equalled no good! The panic rose inside of me. When you got out of the car and fetched my bag from the trunk, I functioned on auto-pilot and stepped out as well, shut the door, gave Jonathan a brief hug and went up to the front door. I don’t know who gave you the keys to my place but I wouldn’t rule out that I did it myself before I checked myself in. That time was a bit of a blur to me.

I was not worried to return to some kind of chaos - I hadn’t been the stereotypical alcoholic: A clean place was still my main priority, I suppose if I had changed something about that, everybody would have sensed that something was wrong a long time before they did. Me included. But I was worried about knowing exactly where the bottles were. So when I entered my place, I felt like a kid in a candy shop. A diabetic kid in a candy shop. “Rob, I...”, I frowned and rubbed my forehead, not quite sure how to express my fears. You turned around and put my bag next to the staircase. You scratched the back of your neck, frowned slightly in return and said, suddenly sounding quite insecure “You know... hope you don’t mind, I came over last week and did a bit of raiding...” Then your speed of talking increased considerably “You know, I felt like having a little drink myself and what would be a better opportunity for one dry alcoholic to start drinking again than the realisation that the entire attention is on a new alcoholic now. So I thought, you probably had a lot of free booze in the house. Party!!!”. That made me laugh, it was so very you! Deep down I knew that your jokes were just a way of preventing yourself and me from getting hurt but it was just what I needed and you cannot imagine the relief I felt that instant to know there was no potential for relapse anywhere near. “You drama queen...”, I added and took off my scarf and cardigan.  
You grabbed my wrist and pulled me close to you, also took the other wrist and stared at me, your face inches away from mine. It was a reminder of the games we used to play and I clicked right back into my place by letting you proceed. “You know... you don’t have to repeat every fucking mistake I make. You’re Markie, people love you for who you are.” You stressed every single word and I swallowed hard. My hands were clenched in fists and my knuckles were white from the tension. I heard myself say “I let everybody down. I let you down.” and I looked ashamed to the floor. We were back in our roles. I was willing to play along if you’d just stay and not leave me alone in this house. But then there was a change.  
The very moment I looked down, you released the pressure on my wrists, took both my hands in one of yours while the other one brushed some hair out of my face. The sudden change of mood confused me, I was almost scared to have said something wrong. You put your thumb under my chin and pulled my face up so I looked into your eyes and you said quietly “No, I let you down. And to make it worse, I watched you letting yourself down, too.” Before I could object, you had let go off my hands and wrapped one arm around my waist and guided me tenderly closer to you. The other hand played with the fine hairs in the nape of my neck and you leaned in to kiss me. My hands wandered up and down your back slowly, there was no need to be rough, if this was what sexual healing felt like, I wouldn’t ever wanna stop. When I heard the sound of a car engine fade away, I smiled against your lips, took your hand and guided you upstairs.


	8. Chapter 8

_“You, you’re such a big star to me”_ , the vibrations of your soft singing tickled against my lips while you were holding onto my waist, stumble-dance-shifting me towards the bed. I grinned widely between the short kisses and mumbled “You’re…crazy…you know…that?”. You pulled back slightly, looking at me boyishly, asking “So… the song is about me, isn’t it?” You were impossible. I tilted my head, having a bit of a shy moment even though I probably should have known you’d bring that subject up again. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”, I replied and pushed your shirt up, trying to make you forget about your question. Your bare skin under my fingertips sent shivers down my spine; it was familiar yet new and it was like getting to know you all over again. “The Tao of Owen…”, you winked amused and let go off my waist so I could continue undressing you. “Yeah…” was all I replied before I started unbuttoning your jeans. My voice sounded strangely hoarse to my ears, I guess I was more nervous than I wanted to admit to myself. You looked into my eyes making sure that I was doing alright. I’d always known that you were a caring guy but when we were stuck in our predefined roles, you weren’t able to show it, I was supposed to be the strong one, the one to make you forget your frustrations and depression. I guided your hand under my shirt and kissed you softly to indicate that I was okay and needed this right now and it was all the confirmation you’d been waiting for.

As if you had held back until that moment, you quickly took off my shirt and pushed me gently onto the bed, straddled me and leaned down, planting kisses all over my neck. When I moaned and clawed my fingers into your back, you looked into my eyes and asked seriously “Do you trust me?”. I’d never seen you that vulnerable and bare in my entire life. I nodded slowly and my hands relaxed against your skin. “Then please let me give something back…”, you demanded, still looking into my eyes. I felt hot and cold at the same time, my heart was beating so fast that it hurt. This time I don’t know if I actually nodded or if you simply read the answer on my face; you moved your head back down and I felt your lips against my neck, sucking on my pulse. My hands automatically shot up to your head, pulling on your hair, guiding you. When I realised that I had done it yet again, I mumbled an apology but you muttered against my skin “Sssh, it’s alright…” and continued caressing and kissing me. I hadn’t known how tender you could be until that very moment and I closed my eyes to drown in your touch. You were everywhere, invading every cell of my body. Your tongue twirling over my armpit drove me insane and made me squirm beneath you; your hands wandered down to strip me until I indeed was <i> _blissfully tortured, naked and real_. </i> The thought made me grin and I bit my lip, snorting softly. I could practically feel you looking up at me when you asked with a content undertone “What’s so funny, Markie?”. My eyelids were too heavy, so I mumbled with closed eyes “…thinking of my own lyrics…”. The moment was still so intense that I had to giggle involuntarily but I didn’t want you to stop, so I blindly grabbed for your head and pulled it down to the particularly sensitive spot on my lower tummy. You laughed melodically against my skin and bit teasingly into my stomach, causing my entire body to arch up. I muttered “tease” under my breath and shivered. God, I wanted you so fucking much, this was better than anything I could have imagined. You fumbled with your own trousers and pants until your naked body was pressed against mine which made me want you even more. Then you ran your tongue teasingly in circles further downwards and when you stopped right above my crotch, I opened my eyes to look at you. Never before had you been more beautiful to me than in that moment. I fell for you all over again. Your eyes locked with mine when you took my erection into your mouth and closed around me. I held your head between my hands and felt your mouth sending me closer and closer to the edge, hearing myself moan. My body and mind were no longer in control, I embraced that feeling and let go, falling into you. I came with a loud cry that almost startled me and pulled shakily on your head. You slid up on top of me and I kissed your salty lips before letting you sink down right next to me.

 

The smile on your face was different from the way you’d usually look at me after having sex. You opened your mouth as if you wanted to say something but changed your mind. I was intrigued, so I asked “What…?”. I ran my index finger along your cheek, exhausted but very happy. “This will sound really corny…” you replied but I still looked at you curiously, so you sighed and grinned in the typical Robbie-way “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you”. It took you another minute and a playful nudge from me to gather the encourage to speak “…I was just thinking how fucking beautiful you are when you’re coming – no idea why I never noticed that before… Guess I was a bit caught up in m…” I shut you up by kissing you deeply, causing you to moan in return now. You wrapped your leg around me and I felt your hard-on poke against me. “You silly fool, why didn’t you say anything?”, I said playfully, no idea where this sudden boost of confidence had just come from. – Then again: I could imagine… I smirked at you and you gave me this almost shy look that you only revealed to people you were very close to, the off-guard you “Told you, I wanted to give something back…”. Without saying another word, I turned onto my side and pushed you onto your back now, reached down and started stroking you, never taking my eyes off your face. You were the most gorgeous creature in this universe and causing you to moan and shiver in ecstasy was better than anything I’d done or experienced before. Yes, we had had sex before tonight but never like this. Never gentle, never intimate. It used to be about pain, about feeling something at all. I had been caressing you before but it hadn’t been mutual, it had always been a one-sided thing. There had always been walls, pressure, hurt. When you came into my hand with closed eyes and parted lips, I knew it was different. And I hoped it would never have to be any other way again.

 

“Mark…?”, you asked carefully. My head was resting on your chest and I was listening to your heartbeat that had steadily slowed down back to its normal pace. I didn’t know for how long we’d been lying like this but it felt good. Your hands were playing with my hair, my fingers tracing invisible paths on your chest and I felt safe. “Hmmm?” my eyes were closed and I was in a drowsy state, not quite awake but not yet asleep. You hesitated for a moment and I was beginning to wonder what I had done to make you this insecure. Maybe you couldn’t quite handle the momentarily reversed roles? I scolded myself inwardly for even starting to analyse us in a moment like that. That was something I definitely still needed to work on. “You know… when you’re facing the guys… You won’t have to do this on your own; if you need me…” you spoke a lot slower than usually, your voice was a bit shaky and I could tell that you were scared I’d freak out on you there and then, that you had somehow destroyed the moment. I smiled and kissed your chest, replying “Thank you. …that sounds strangely familiar.”

 

“If you need me...” I offered my support to you. You looked nervous and were fumbling with your hands, in a minute you’d meet the other guys for the first time in years and I could tell how nerve-wracking that was. You were sitting in an armchair in the corner of my hotel room and your instincts probably told you to run. I got up from the bed and sat down on the armrest, ruffling your hair playfully, leaving you whining “Mate, I’m seeing Gary Barlow for the first time in years and on top of that you’re ruining my styling!” You looked up at me with a grin but you couldn’t conceal that you felt like a lost child that just wanted to come home. I played along “I’m sure that Gary Barlow will consider you a total stunner with that heartthrob smile of yours.” You laughed and pointed at me “I learnt from the best, Mister Smile-In-Your-Sleep.” In a brief rush of affection, I bent over and pressed my lips on your forehead, whispering “You know it’s gonna be alright, just be yourself.”. In that moment, there was a knock and I got up to open the door.

 

The first person to enter was Jay. I knew by then that you’d talked on the phone a few times and that things would be okay between you. In a way that was a weird thought considering how often you fought in the early days and I could tell from the way you looked at him that you were worried at first that the phone calls hadn’t meant anything but the smile that spread widely on your face when Jason pulled you in a hug made me relax as well and it was then that I realised how tense I had been about the meeting. All the times I had said that I would be there for you, I had inwardly worried that I’d have to pick up the pieces of your shattered confidence and hopes if this hadn’t worked out for whatever strange reason. Every spoken word made me come to peace with the past as well, for the first time in over ten years, I was calming down.

 

I hadn’t worried about Howard. When you’d left the band, he’d been in pieces, too, and those things you had said on that video tape and his reaction were still so present in my mind that I had been sure you’d have no problem getting along. And that’s how it was, things were back to normal before you even talked to each other and for a moment I thought that Dougie was not going to let you go. You let out a strangled sound and both of you started laughing, it was the kind of laugh that releases tension, expressed the joy of seeing each other again, the one that immediately connects you to the person in front of you. And again I was happy to have such amazing people in my life.

 

Then you turned to face Gaz. It was a bit like in all those movies: There was a strange silence all of a sudden and Jay looked at me, muttering “You think we should have left them alone for this one?” I shook my head and shifted from one foot to the other, nervous on both his behalf and yours. I knew that both of you wanted to put the dispute to rest but so many things had been said and done, what if it was too much? Howard briefly knocked his shoulder against mine and smiled as if he wanted to say I should worry less and that those two men were adults and could handle this. “Hey Gary…”, you said and I could see how your facial expression kept on shifting.

On-guard, off-guard, on-guard, off-guard.

Smiles, worries, smiles, worries.

“Daft old sod”, Gary smirked softly to stop the awkwardness of the situation and pulled you in a hug and from the way you suddenly let your shoulders fall, I could tell that the weight of the world had just been lifted off of them, you suddenly were the band’s kid again and the twinkle in your eyes returned. “Daft maybe, but you’re the old sod, Gaz! – But what happened to you, you look… FIT!” Everybody chuckled and twelve years of discomfort and hurt no longer mattered. Nobody expected miracles, we were aware that we’d have to talk things through properly - but we were still tight. And finally complete again.

 

I blinked and turned around in your arm, you had snuggled up behind me, spooning me. It had been like this ever since I’d returned from rehab two weeks ago. Not once had you left my side, not once did I have to wake up, sweating and shivering in an empty bed. Without mentioning it, you had stayed by my side. You were my anchor, my security.

Now my face was only inches away from yours and you beamed at me widely. What had I done to deserve this kind of treatment? How could I ensure that this would last? I had finally arrived where I wanted to be and didn’t want to be with anybody else. I kissed your nose and shifted even closer to you, your warm skin against mine. I ran my fingertips over your upper arm. “Rob… I think I want to return to the studio…” I bit my lip and looked into your eyes. “Okay.” you nodded briefly and smiled at me, adding “I’m proud of you.”

And so was I.

 


	9. Chapter 9

_***EPILOGUE***_

“THAT went really, really well!” you said for the umpteenth time as we entered our hotel room, your eyes glowing with joy and relief. I ushered you further into those four walls that granted us the privacy I had longed for ever since you’d shot me that meaningful look straight after our performance at the X-Factor.   
The usual stage fright that would turn you broken biscuits was nothing compared to the utter fear in your eyes that night. Our first performance of Take That as a five piece after 15 years - of course you would be terrified but I could hardly calm you down. A little bit of pep talk in a quiet corner, a few sneaked kisses to assure you that you weren’t alone; I’d done my best but hadn’t been sure if that would be enough. “Markie, please...” you’d held my hand in a firm grip and while the other guys had one by one patted your back, ruffled your hair or squeezed your shoulders, one telling you to get a grip, the next one to be a man and the third one to stop being such a drama queen, you’d pulled a troubled face as if you wanted me to run away with you or jump into the TARDIS to travel about ten to fifteen minutes to the future. I’d rested my forehead against yours and told you that I’d just be a few steps away and that you should just look at me if you were insecure but I’d known you’d walk right through it. And you had been stunning!  
Back from the studio, back on our own, just you and me. The moment the door fell shut, you pulled me close to you and brushed your lips over mine - Christ, how much you made me want you! I answered the kiss hungrily, leaned into your touch and slipped off your jacket. You fumbled with my scarf while my hands had already found their way under your shirt and before we both knew it, jackets, shirts, shoes and trousers were scattered all over the place Rob style.   
Over the past few months I had gotten to know you all over again. Some of your sides had surprised me but most of them had not failed to amaze me and I seriously couldn’t remember a happier time in my life. We had become a unit again, shared laughter, tears and hopes and we’d gradually let each other closer than we would have been willing to admit even to ourselves. To me, we were one. Not only when we were making love but also in all those small things - gestures, looks, words. How could you possibly explain something like that without sounding like a fool? You probably couldn’t but I didn’t mind.

But now was no time for slow love making. I wanted you. Badly. The adrenaline that was still pumping through our veins made us horny and desperate and I pushed you onto the bed, straddling you. Your eyes begged “take me” as you propped up your upper body and you didn’t have to ‘tell’ me twice. I ran my hands over your chest, my fingers played briefly with your chest hair before finding their way to your erect nipples. I bent forward and let my tongue run over one nipple while my index finger still played with the other one. “Markieee,” you whined softly and moaned against my hair. That only turned me on so much more and I sucked softly on that sensitive spot, feeling you shiver against my lips. You slid your hands inside my briefs and started massaging my ass and it was enough to make me neglect your nipples and concentrate on stripping you naked instead. I looked into your eyes as I freed you from your own underpants and when our naked erections rubbed against each other, I knew that we were both too impatient for foreplay this time. After quickly but thoroughly preparing you, I lifted your legs, rested them over my shoulders and entered you slowly - no matter how much I wanted you, I didn’t want to hurt you - and when I started moving inside you, you whimpered with pleasure which sent even more shivers down my spine. I loved being this close to you, loved that you let me in, that you let me take over, that you just let go. How you closed your eyes when I moved faster, how I took your erection into my hand and stroked you, how you wanted me, screamed and whimpered my name, begged me to do this. We melted together, driving each other mad, our sweaty bodies glued together, moving faster and faster, close in ecstasy and when I felt your whole body arching towards my hand one last time with force before you shot your load over my stomach, I came inside you with a cry. When I pulled out of you and moved up between your legs to lie down on top of you, I felt your hasty breathing against my face before you kissed me deeply. “You’re a hell of a top, Markie.” you said with a cute wrinkle of your nose. “...who would have guessed...” I replied, partly also directed at myself. It seemed there were some things that I was still learning about myself.

I rested my head on your chest and we stayed like this for a while until you started giggling. “Mark... I think Jay’s got his room next to us... He’s gonna kill us tomorrow,” you said and I looked up at you, resting my chin on your chest. “Who cares about tomorrow?” I winked up at you and you ran your hands affectionately over my back. This was all I needed. Just this moment. You and me in a bed, your hot body pressed against mine. “Aren’t you cold?” you asked a bit worried when you noticed that you were held warm by me but my back was bare. I shook my head but you moved a bit to the side so you could pull a blanket over the two of us. Then you remembered something “Hey, the documentary will premiere tonight. Should we watch it?”. Over the last few days, I had been increasingly nervous about the first airing because I knew that some of the bits were pretty personal but for some weird reason I couldn’t care less in that very moment. It would be alright, I was in OUR hotel room, sharing OUR bed and we were living OUR dream. That was the past, this was the future. I hadn’t answered your question yet and it seemed as if you were starting to worry. Your vision narrowed and you were about to say something, one hand played with my hair and I could tell that you were about to say something along the line of us not having to watch it if I wasn’t ready but I shifted up a tiny bit and kissed your lips “Yeah... let’s do it!”. 

So we found ourselves just like in the old days: Sitting on the bed, me between your legs, you massaging my neck and - yes, me with a hard-on. The documentary had already started but we didn’t mind too much since we’d obviously already seen it before. When you said “We don’t need each other, we both want each other”, I nudged you playfully with my elbow until you mumbled cheekily against my neck “No threesomes, Mister Owen” which made me shudder because I had never even considered Gary in a sexual context. You laughed melodically into my ear and the vibrations sent shivers down my spine. “Would you want a threesome with any of the other guys?” - you were in a chatty mood and it was my turn to laugh now “What, like in all those stories that you find online where we’re all making out with each other?”. You tickled me briefly “Yeah!”. I turned around and looked straight into your eyes, your confidence made you even sexier than you were just a few months back - if that was even possible. I mumbled softly “I love you...”, completely out of the blue. Maybe because Gary had said “I don’t want Rob to disappear” on telly just a second ago, maybe it simply was the right moment to say it. It was not the kind of moment where one person says it and expects the other one to reply with “I love you, too”. There are some things that don’t need to be spelt out. I felt your hand in my hair again and you pulled me close, kissing me on the lips and that’s all the confirmation I needed. 

We broke apart, smiling silently at each other and remained in that trance until you suddenly started laughing. “What?” I looked at you amused “What is it?”. I turned around and looked at the screen. You pointed at the screen “I noticed something in the final cut. Look!” The scene in which Gaz talks about my inability to accept other people’s ideas at times has just started and I turned to face the screen properly again, resting my back against your naked chest. You wrapped one arm around my upper body almost possessively and pointed at the screen again “Have you noticed that? Look at my arms!” You giggled like a girl - not in a hysterical but very content way. Indeed I hadn’t noticed before that the moment Gaz starts with “Sometimes Mark comes in...”, your whole posture had tensed up. I chuckled as well “awww, that’s cute” and lifted your arm with my free hand to kiss it.   
We continued watching in silence for a while. There were times when I squeezed your arm or snuggled up closer against you, mostly when I noticed a change in your breathing; when you saw my disappointed face when you didn’t show up in 2005 for the reunion documentary, the footage about you leaving the band... When you heard me say all those things about why I didn’t speak up for you, you planted a kiss against the back of my neck and whispered that it was not my fault. And when Gary and I fought about my lines in “8 Letters”, you were laughing so hard, that I stopped paying attention to the screen, especially when you said “You know, he totally tricked you there... with all this ‘that’s why we love you’ stuff. He knows your weak spots, Captain Barlow, he really does!” I took a pillow and hit you in the face, taking you by surprise. Seconds later, we were engaged in a massive pillow fight, forgetting about the documentary but fooling around like kids, knocking over the lamp on my nightstand, ending up in giggle fits. 

I lay on my back, holding my aching tummy, turned to face you doing the same and sighed happily. Faintly, I could hear myself sing “What do you want from me” on screen while I was beaming widely at you. You turned to your side all of a sudden, propped your head up and flashed me your brightest smile “Mark Owen, don’t ever let me run away from this again!” 

_And then you realise that you hurt so much because you loved them so much._


End file.
